I hear tell of this thing called a “push present.” My sister-in-law did me the favor of informing the Hubs what this is (thanks, SIL!).
And now I will inform you – in case you didn’t know.
As reward for, a-hem, pushing out our newest human being, the Hubs is responsible for regaling me with a present in the form of sparkling bauble, preferably of the diamond variety (but other extravagances will do).
I do not know the first thing about diamonds, people.
Other than that they are a girl’s best friend.
When the Hubs decided to tackle the task of picking out a ring with which to pop “the question”, I did not know my ring size. I did not know the “four Cs”. I left him completely and utterly on his own.
He did just fine, by the way.
I still don’t have a wedding band, folks. I love my ring just as it is. I don’t have the diamond lust to find a perfect band to go with it. I’m lazy with jewels. I am a precious gem commitment-phobe. I can’t pull the trigger on the pricey gemstones.
That’s what husbands are for.
When I look at ticket prices for some of these baubles, I am aghast. I immediately do the math “That’s two car payments” or “That’s a weekend in Bend” or “That’s a heck of a shopping spree.” There are just so many other things I can think of that that much money could go toward.
Even, more responsibly, “That’s a downpayment on Baby Dub’s college tuition.”
What I really want for a push present is a babymoon.
Did I just blow your mind?
I don’t want a bauble. I want to spend special moments and experiences with the Hubs before we have this new responsibility to totally distract us from each other for the next 18 years.
I don’t just love my husband, people. I REALLY like him. I enjoy spending time with this guy. Have you ever met my husband? He’s a freakin’ blast. When Baby Dub arrives, she’s going to be so awesome I can hardly stand it (that’s a given). But she’s also going to be lots of work, and responsibility.
We can’t just leave her in the car and crack the window.
The closer we get to July 4, the harder it is going to be to get away. Doc says I can travel – but I’ve already shared with you my lack of desire to go anywhere on an airplane.
So I’m not dreaming of white sandy beaches, or the dream getaway to Australia, or a Mediterranean cruise. I just want a long weekend somewhere within reasonable driving distance where I can see something cool, do something cool, and max and relax with the big guy.
Maybe more than one long weekend.
If you see any bomb Groupon deals, pass them my way. Better yet, send ’em in the Hubs’ direction.
Not that I’d turn up my nose to a good old fashioned diamond.